


Snakes and Sunshine

by rebelwriter6561



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, snakeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley and Aziraphale are enjoying a sunny day when they are interuptted</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snakes and Sunshine

It was a warm spring morning in London. For the moment, at least. Aziraphale could see puffy white clouds encroaching on the edges of the sky, and knew it was only a matter of time before the rain would come, as it always did in spring. But for now, it was bright, sunny, and well past time for him to open his shop.

Aziraphale sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes and stretching out muscles. Next to him, Crowley shifted on the bed, sprawling out to reach the spot where the angel had been lying. Burying his face in the still warm sheets, Crowley muttered, “Forget the bookstore. Come back to bed.”

“Ah, but my dear-” Aziraphale sighed lovingly. He reached a hand back to rest it in the small of Crowley’s bare back. “-that simply will not do. I’ve been engaging in Sloth for far too long.” 

Even with his face hidden by blankets, he could see Crowley’s snake-like grin. “Just Sssssloth?” he hissed teasingly. The only response from the angel was a smack to his ass, before Aziraphale rose in a huff and dressed himself with a blink. He was not completely unforgiving, however, and before he left the room, he opened the blinds further to allow the warm sunlight to fall across the bed and its drowsy occupant. Crowley gave a moan to show his appreciation. 

Smiling and shaking his head, Aziraphale descended the stairs and entered the front of his shop to reluctantly turn the “closed” sign to “open”. ‘It’s such a nice day out; no one will wish to enter a dusty old shop on a day like today’ he reasoned as he seated himself behind his counter. For some time, he occupied himself with filing a few forms, some other meaningless paperwork, and finally got down to restoring an old Bible that had seen a few too many days. The sunlight seemed to aid him in his attempts to discourage customers from entering his store: it still shone with a bright cheery intensity.

Aziraphale was just wondering if he should drag the demon from his bed and make him come to the park when several men entered the shop. Aziraphale eyed them with suspicion, in case they were the sort of men who were interested with how flammable his shop was. No, he decided, they weren’t. They were far too clean and tidy. When the eldest of them approached his desk, he learned that they were, in fact, men from the Federal Tax Agency.

“Well, you see here now,” said the gentleman with a sniff (poor dear had a cold, such a shame on such a lovely day), “ah, well, ahm…we, aherm, wanted to look into the situation you have here to ensure that everything is as you’ve indicated on your tax forms.”

Meaning, he had done his taxes far too well, and had raised their suspicion again. Aziraphale remembered Crowley offering to muddy them up for him (“Don’t see why you’re doing taxes anyway, angel!”), but had declined his offer. Perhaps next year he would take him up on his offer.

Aziraphale got up from behind his desk. “Oh really, it’s no problem at all. This sort of thing always seems to happen to me!” he said in a jokingly cheerful voice. He moved around to the front of his counter to chat with the elderly man as the younger men that had accompanied him moved through the store, a few venturing into the back room of the shop. “You’re welcome to search upstairs!” Aziraphale called after them, before turning back to the senior inspector to chat about the beautiful weather. 

They had just turned their conversation over to the state of the current economy (“it’s all those damn Yankee’s fault, good riddance to bad rubbish I say”) when a blood-curdling scream sounded from upstairs. For a split second, Aziraphale wondered if they indeed had found a dead body up there.

“Oh dear.” he muttered when he remembered that Crowley was still in his room. There was nothing like a naked man in a bed to stall all conversations.

But when the youngest member flew down the stairs, they learned that it was something else entirely. 

“S-s-s-s-s-Snaaake, S-s-s-sir.” He shuddered out. “Th-th-there’s a s-s-s-snake upstairs, S-s-s-s-sir.”

‘Ah,’ Aziraphale realized, ‘that’s what happened.’ The warm sunlight on the bed must have stimulated Crowley enough that he had changed back into a snake to enjoy it further.

Ascending the stairs and trailing explanations- “Oh that’s just Crawley, he’s nothing but a big softie, completely harmless”- Aziraphale entered his loft to find large black snake resting in the patch of sunlight on his bed.

Crowley had been enjoying that patch of sunlight very much, thank you. He had been drowsily lamenting the absence of his favorite heat source when the rookie inspector had barged in and started rifling in his angel’s drawers. This obviously displeased the demon, and he attempted to inform the young man of this. Unfortunately all that came out was an angered hiss (or perhaps fortunately, as a talking snake was harder to explain than just a snake). The man had fled the room with a scream, and left in his wake a severely pissed off snake. When the angel entered, the glare he leveled at him spoke clearly of that.

Aziraphale smiled sheepishly and shrugged apologetically. He then picked the thick stretch of snake off the bed. Crowley was almost the same length as he was tall in his human form, so Aziraphale was forced to loop several coils over himself. Crowley’s head ended up rubbing against his neck, and Aziraphale was certain he heard a “Thissss is not funny, angel” hissed in his ear.

“It is a little” Aziraphale said quietly as he carried his friend down the stairs. Crowley made a few more unhappy noises, and finally quieted when Aziraphale approached the tax inspectors. 

“There’s no need for a fuss now.” Aziraphale said cheerfully (and a little forcefully). “No harm done. Are you quite done with the upstairs?” he asked the rookie, who was looking at Crowley with barely concealed horror. Crowley stared back with just-as-barely concealed contempt.

“N-n-n-n-no I d-d-don’t think s-s-s-so.” stuttered the poor man, and carefully slunk past the snake-draped angel to climb the stairs once more. Crowley’s head followed his path. That boy, he decided, got off far too easy. He started plotting a few more punishments for the man as Aziraphale struck up another conversation with the head inspector, who seemed to find nothing at all unusual about the situation.

The conversation, it must be noted, was extremely embarrassing for both supernatural entities, as it involved inquiries about Cowley’s feeding and grooming habits. Aziraphale stuttered out one possibly untrue fact after another, while Cowley tightened his scales whenever he thought a question was a tad too personal.

Thankfully, their suffering was quickly over, as the inspectors came back and told them the inspection was completed. Aziraphale showed them the way out, and locked the door after them. Switching his sign once more, he carried Crowley back up the stairs to deposit him on the bed once more. The patch of sunlight was gone, hidden away beneath the clouds.

Crowley shifted around in the sheets a moment, then, with a rasping noise and a touch of something else, transformed from a black snake to a very naked man. Yellow eyes, the only remainder of the previous form, glared at the angel who was trying very hard not to laugh.

“That…angel…that was humiliating!” Crowley choked out. Aziraphale covered his smile with his hand and moved to sit next to the flustered demon on the bed. Placing his hand on Crowley’s shoulder, he leaned into the demon’s ear and said quietly, “I’m sorry dear. How would you like me to make it up to you?”

Crowley once more smiled like a snake. “It seems as though my secondary heat source was removed.” He remarked with a deeply mischievous tone to his voice. “If you were willing to act as the primary source…” he was cut off by Aziraphale’s lips on his own. And the rest of the cloudy day went by unnoticed by the pair, as an angel tried his very best to warm up his occasionally scaly companion. Much to their mutual enjoyment.

**Author's Note:**

> this may have been the first legitimate fanfiction I ever wrote years ago so if its shit that's why


End file.
